


to see you again

by tarantism



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Reincarnation, Romance, mentions of smut in lifetime ten, repost of a deleted fic but w additions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-10-13 01:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10503240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tarantism/pseuds/tarantism
Summary: in every life he lives, mingyu can’t be without minghao.





	

**Author's Note:**

> some of you may recognise this fic and it's because i originally posted it here on my old account hoseoks (tarantism), but it got deleted. but i've been trying to recover a lot of it/put it back together for months and i've finally gotten to that stage where i'm moderately satisfied that it's more-or-less the same, aside from a few extra things/lives i've added in.

1.

 

The first time Mingyu sees Minghao again after everything that happened to them, with the lights and the screeching, the crash and the unbearable but short-lasting pain… he's not Mingyu, and Minghao isn't Minghao either — they're complete strangers passing each other on the street. But Mingyu knows; Mingyu remembers, because how could he ever forget? 

He recognises that face from a mile away, those deep, brown, doe-like eyes and that soft, kind-hearted smile which transformed the occasionally stoic face; he can feel it crawling under his skin, into his soul and his heart, encompassing his entire being. This was _his_ Minghao: the person he had dedicated his past lifetime to, the person he had loved with every single fibre of his being... the person he'd promised never to leave, but under the circumstances, ended up doing so anyway.

The car had never stopped...

He isn't surprised in the slightest when Minghao (no, he mustn't call him— _her_ that, because she surely goes by a different name now) walks past him into the arms of her boyfriend, wide smile on her face, completely oblivious to the way his chocolate eyes follow every movement of her tall, slender frame.

She looks so happy, cherished by the boy with her as their fingers lace together; long, slim fingers that he can just about make out, Mingyu's own hands twitching with the memory of them slotted in his own shorter, thicker ones. Mingyu wishes he had any kind of excuse to reach out and call to her. Any reason at all to have her turn around just one more time so he can see those eyes before she disappears for good.

But he doesn't, so, with a heavy heart, he lets her go this time.

 

 

2.

 

This time, Mingyu can say he's relatively happy. He's found Minghao, and this time he actually has an excuse to get closer to him. Suddenly he’s grateful his clumsiness is a quality that he seems to share in all his lifetimes.

And here he's watching closely as Minghao instructs him to lie on some apparatus in a small room, struggling to complete some of his physiotherapy exercises. Mingyu grits his teeth as the sprain in his leg tenses, but the ache seems to vanish momentarily as Minghao sits beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder to stop him before he hurts himself any more. Mingyu nods because even he knows it would be stupid to prolong the healing of his injury just to spend longer with Minghao, no matter how tempted he is to do so. It feels almost nostalgic, the way the brunette boy stares at him with caring eyes, and Mingyu pushes himself up from his current position on the equipment.

"We can continue tomorrow," Minghao nods. "Leg injuries take time to heal, and pushing yourself too hard is only going to make it worse."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," comes Mingyu's reply shortly after, pausing for a second to take in the scene. Mingyu felt his heart melting as the same accent rolled off the boy's tongue. The same Chinese voice testing out his fractured Korean.

Minghao gives him a closed lipped smile, squeezing Mingyu's broad shoulder before rising from his seat to sign off their appointment in his notes. The taller of the two can't help but stare and admire.

This time, Minghao doesn't love him back either, but Mingyu is just content to be by his side once more.

 

 

3.

 

He doesn't mind being a dog, even one in a shelter, because he is surrounded by other dogs that feel familiar to him, but he can't quite place it—he's one out of maybe twelve others there, and although he is sure he doesn't know them, it's nice to be amongst other dogs like him.

The only problem is that he ends up being last dog left up for adoption in the shelter. He watches as their numbers slowly dwindle day by day, the more excitable, happy dogs like the Shiba Inu or Pomeranian in the cage diagonally across from him leaving them first. He misses their voices.

Many people came and admired his beauty, some calling him the most beautiful dog in the kennel, but unlike the others, they were empty words filled with empty hopes and promises of love.

Just when he curls up to fall asleep in sadness at the end of another lonely day, he hears the whistle from outside the cage; a little child is there with the biggest smile on his face, the widest, most hopeful doe eyes, tiny hands holding a treat, and… _there you are_.

He doesn't mind being a dog if it means he can get to be by Minghao's side for the rest of his life.

 

 

4.

 

Ever since he was little, Mingyu has always had Minghao with him. He doesn’t exactly remember when they first found each other, but he knows that all that really matters is that they have one another now.

He’s exactly as he remembers him from before, too, even if Mingyu himself isn’t the same tall, broad, clumsy teenager. He thinks he’ll grow into it. He hopes he will because he doesn’t want to be smaller and younger than Minghao forever.

His mother always prepares an extra space at the dinner table for him and Mingyu is grateful, even though he knows Minghao won’t be eating anything—he never eats. The more he thinks about it, the more he realises that Minghao doesn’t really do any of the basic things humans are required to do.

He’s always there, ready and waiting for him in his bedroom when he returns home from school, but Minghao never goes himself. Mingyu never asks him where he goes when it’s time for him to go to sleep, or why he’s there when he wakes up—he figures it’s rude so he just goes with it.

“You’ll forget me one day.” He hears his best friend say one afternoon as they are sprawled out on the floor of Mingyu’s bedroom, doing his fifth-grade homework. Mingyu stops and turns his head, a frown present on his face.

“No I won’t. Don’t say that.”

The boy shrugs and pulls his long legs up to his chest. “It’s true. You’ll make new friends in middle school and you won’t need me anymore.”

“Stop saying such stupid things, it won’t happen.”

“Okay.”

Mingyu promises him that day that he will never forget Minghao, because how could he when he’s lived every life searching for him? He would pinkie promise, but he’s never been able to touch his best friend.

He realises the reason on his thirteenth birthday, when he’s blowing out the candles on his cake and his mother hasn’t set the plate out for Minghao like she usually does. Mingyu tilts his head at her and watches her sigh, shaking her head.

“You’re too old for imaginary friends now, Mingyu.”

 

 

5.

 

Mingyu works at a coffee shop this time, just outside of the local college campus, and is pleasantly surprised at the quiet customer who seems to enjoy their coffee just a little too much. Shenis in no way complaining; a long and seemingly endless shift could turn on its head whenever the boy entered the shop and suddenly she wishes time would tick slower. She couldn't help but smile at the thought, just a little one tugging at the corner of her lips.

What's different is that this time Mingyu isn't a 6'1" teenager, but a short, petite young woman and Minghao isn't very good at socialising (especially not in a country with a foreign tongue), but she can see he actually puts effort into it this time when he suggests it would be nice to enjoy a cup of coffee together (with an obvious blush on his face to accompany that same hint of an accent, may she add). And when he looks and sounds like this, dressed in a relaxed blue shirt that makes him look absolutely perfect, Mingyu can't refuse him— _who's she trying to fool?_ She could never refuse Minghao.

She blushes and agrees a little too enthusiastically, watching as he shuffles away with his coffee on a tray, settling into a booth by the window as the clock slowly ticks down to the end of her shift.

Her own coffee goes cold though when she joins him, when she pays no attention to it for the sake of enjoying Minghao's company.

 

 

6.

 

This one's not a happy lifetime, oh, not at all. Not that it's his fault, not that he's complaining because, really, his family wasn't anything else other than wonderful and _oh so_ loving. But they were also disgustingly rich, big and successful, gaining many enemies on their way to the top. Jealousy and spite are awful emotions, he realises as he grows up. They can break even the strongest of people when pushed to their absolute limit.

His life had been a mix of hidden secrets from his parents, masked with love and affection around the dinner table and exceedingly large presents presented to him and his sister at Christmas. But, despite how much his parents tried to hide it, he heard the whispers of the rivalries; the threats through cracked doors; discarded letters and voicemails. Not that as a child he had ever understood what they could possibly mean. All he was told at school was to choose his friends wisely.

He's not surprised really when disaster comes down in his twenty-first year and that when he walks into the lounge for his "surprise birthday party", there's blood everywhere. Balloons are painted red, the floor stained with the wine he knocked over when he was five and now the fresh blood shed, the glass shattered into tiny shards reflecting the crimson splatters—the dead bodies of his parents, his beloved little sister, only sixteen, on the floor and in the middle of all the mess, a tall, slender man holding a gun.

He is surprised, however, when the man turns his way, pointing the gun to his head. Oh, how he wishes he could have skipped this lifetime altogether. He would have given absolutely anything for a chance to never experience this hell. His heart breaks twice in the span of a single minute.

The last thing he sees is watery, brown, doe eyes and a shaking hand, just as he opens his mouth to plead and call out Minghao's name.

 

 

7.

 

With a heavy heart in this lifetime, Mingyu wrings out a damp towel and places it gently against Minghao's forehead. He's been assigned as a nurse to care for the slim boy in this ward of the hospital, never expecting to see Minghao as one of his patients.

"How are you feeling?" He asks nervously, voice barely above a whisper as his hand brushes against the tanned skin of the other boy, hot to the touch. He watches as Minghao struggles to readjust the cannula in his nose, smiling weakly.

"Is there any point in me saying I'm just fine, or will you see straight through that lie?" 

Mingyu feels a small, pained laugh bubble up into his throat, unbelieving that he has to see the love of his many lives here, a deteriorating version of himself.

"You can tell me I'm dying. I already know. I saw the doctor's speaking in the surgery room." Minghao strangely sounds like a more confident version of himself. Mingyu can't quite grasp the situation, so instead he grasps one of the Chinese boy's bony hands by his side.

A deep breath. "You're not going to die. I'm going to do whatever I can to not let that happen."

"Spreading false hope is dangerous. Especially to someone with cancer, nurse. Though, I'd really like to see the Summer sun again."

"It's not false hope if you believe. And call me Mingyu."

He watches for some sign of recognition with his name, but those same chocolate brown eyes are tired and have no reaction but to crinkle slightly with a small smile.

"Thank you for staying with me, Mingyu."

"You'll see the next summer."

"If you say so."

Mingyu knows he shouldn't fall in love with him again, especially when both him and Minghao know the likelihood of the boy's survival; but he is stubborn and promised he'd find him with every lifetime. So he stays.

It is Mingyu's task to change the bedding once the body is removed that winter.

 

  

8.

 

It's a fortunate tragedy, he muses, when Mingaho and Mingyu are both born into families that abandon them to their own devices, when they're nothing more than kids who can barely walk. Mingyu's parents left him on the front doorstep of the orphanage but Minghao was found wandering the streets, only to be brought in to be homed. Fortunate, he thinks, because he gets to grow up with Minghao, to protect him and be protected by him, to reach out and find happiness and form their own little family to make up for the ones they couldn't have. Also, this time they're not alone, for there are other kids Mingyu can recognise and he has never felt so happy, so at peace, so nostalgic.

"Do you ever miss your mom and dad?" Mingyu muses as the children gather in the courtyard of the orphanage, glancing over at Minghao's tiny frame with wondering eyes.

"No." The boy quickly answers, blowing warm breath onto his shaking hands in the cooling autumnal air. "Do you?"

"I didn't know my parents."

"Me neither. None of us really do, Gyu. But that's not the reason I don't miss them." Mingyu tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowing as Minghao turns to smile at him. "It's because you're my best friend, all of you are family."

Even as a young child, Mingyu's heart warms and his face lights up with joy. Minghao rolls his eyes, but his snicker gives away his fake annoyance. As does the part where Mingyu feels his hand being grabbed, tiny yet familiar fingers lacing together innocently. There's a shout from over his shoulder and Minghao tugs his hand, breaking him out of his daydream. 

He chases after Soonyoung, Wonwoo and Junhui with Minghao by his side, and everything's all right.

He decides he could stay like this forever.

 

 

9.

 

Mingyu is running, running as fast as his legs would allow through the dry brush, searching frantically for a place to hide, for a decoy, for something that would make his chaser confused, or distracted, he just needed time and he didn't have it. The cheetah was running after him and it was catching up and—oh _god_ I don't want to be devoured—he doesn't see the tree in his way and this is the end. It's like a dead end in a maze with nowhere to go.

He opens his frightened eyes and he swears the black stripes on his body turn white when the predator is hovering above him. He knows those eyes, oh he knows them very well and he feels like crying—oh if _only_ he could cry.

When Minghao leaves after who knows how long, sparing Mingyu's life, he wishes he would've just killed him, put him out of his own misery.

It was better than having to live a life being nothing more than prey in Minghao's eyes.

 

 

10.

 

The first time they have sex it's wild and hot and Mingyu can't breathe— Minghao's touching him everywhere with her dainty hands and it smells like alcohol, perspiration and there's that particular scent that is Minghao—he wants her to engulf his senses, swallow up the old pine and cigarette smell that followed her.

She's wet and he's sweaty and it's not good at all because they're both drunk on something Hansol gave them, so they have no idea what the hell they're doing. But when he wakes up with Minghao in his arms the next morning—her long, brunette hair trailing over both their naked bodies—he decides that it was the best night of his life. He had never thought they would ever make it to this moment. Throughout the course of his lives, as each new person they had never taken this step. 

And when, later in the evening, Minghao smirks and plays that song on her guitar that made Mingyu so hot for her when they were sober and alone, he throws himself in her arms shamelessly.

And this time they don't fall asleep before reaching their climax.

 

 

11.

 

"I have to say, Mingyu," His professor's dark eyes stared with admiration as they scanned the manuscript Mingyu had just finished, "your writing is remarkably breath-taking. I can feel the raw emotions escaping from the pages as if you actually experienced it. This is really is a masterpiece."

Seungcheol continues to speak his praise, gaze shifting towards Mingyu, and the latter lets out a small breath of laughter, amused at the little things that seem to stay the same no matter how many lives go by. The older boy had always been a leader in his many lives.

"If I may ask," are the words that follow. "Where do you get your inspiration from? This character... all of that drive, the ambition, but most of all love that Minghao feels, how can you write all of this so beautifully?"

Mingyu lets out another quiet chuckle before replying, "Ah, that," and smiles fondly at the pages in Seungcheol's hands. "Let's say I'm just... imaginative."

Minghao might not exist in this life, but at least Mingyu can recreate him with his words.

 

 

12.

 

Mingyu has never felt so many emotions all at once. He's ecstatic at the view below him, shivering thanks to the wind rustling his feathers, a little bit frightened by the height, happy, _so happy_ and he's flying and he can't believe this; he's soaring through the sky and this is the best feeling in the world.

He's flying over rows upon rows of tall, bright buildings, and he can't help but think the sky over Seoul looks especially beautiful that night, even if something is missing. He can’t quite place it though as he continues to glide through the crystal blue blanket in the sky.

He just wishes Minghao was with him to enjoy this, knowing how much the boy loved to dance and move, wandering what he would look like soaring in the sky rather than across the dance floor. But he continues to fly despite the weight in his heart because, well, a bird's lifespan isn't too long,

and he hopes he can get to see Minghao next time.

 

 

13.

 

Mingyu wishes he could've been avoided being born in this life. The problem isn't that he's unhappy, no, because he has Minghao by his side. The problem lies in his and Minghao's relationship—father and son. They're not blood related, but he is still Minghao's child, no matter how much he prays it isn't true every night—whether it’s at the eleventh minute past the eleventh hour, a shooting star or a stray eyelash he throws over his right shoulder. He never fails to wish it weren’t true.

He sighs and rests his head on the back of the sofa, opening his eyes drearily when he feels someone sitting by his side, turning off the television that was blaring out a documentary he wasn’t paying any real attention to. "Is something wrong?"

His heart breaks for the umpteenth time in his thirteen years of life.

"Nothing's wrong... Dad."

 

 

14.

 

In every lifetime he lived through, Mingyu always thought that college life were the years he enjoyed the most, and this time it was even better. His friends were all together once more, and he smiles at them fondly, letting out a soft chuckle when Seokmin and Soonyoung creep up behind Seungkwan, making him jump—the whole scenes gives Mingyu a warm feeling inside of him as the group bursts into laughter.

It was lunch and it was the one time they all were able to meet up during school hours, so Mingyu sat wondering for a short while why Minghao wasn't there with them. The thought passed quickly once the doors at the end of the cafe opened, emitting two students into the room. His gaze fell on Minghao as he walked through the doors of the dining hall and headed towards their table with Junhui walking in front.

"Everyone," Junhui said, flashing a grin when they reach their spot. "We have something to tell you.”

At this he made a pause to reach for Minghao's hand and Mingyu gulped, "We're getting married!"

He couldn't say he was surprised, and although he was indeed heartbroken, he flashed a smile (trying to make it as convincing as he possibly could) and congratulated the husbands-to-be as he felt concerned eyes from a certain brunette on him. He had never confessed his feelings, after all, no matter how many chances he had been given throughout all the years he’d known the boy. Mingyu's thoughts get swallowed up by the others yelling in happiness at the news or at how idiotic they thought the couple were ("You're barely adults for Christ sake!" "Calm down, Jihoon, it's romantic!" "What do you know about romance, Jisoo?")

They stand aside from the chaos and Mingyu can barely form the words caught on his tongue. "I'm really happy for you, Minghao."

"You are?"

"Absolutely."

It takes all his strength not to cry in complete sorrow at their wedding.

 

 

15.

 

Mingyu is eighty-four by the time he gives up. He never gave up when it came to Minghao, but after eighty-four years of looking everywhere, of begging to whatever God there might be, of waiting day after day for something that wouldn't come, he couldn't help but abandon all hope.

He wonders, maybe, if he didn’t try hard enough: if he didn’t search high enough to the tops of mountains, or low enough to the bottom of the Great Barrier Reef. But he couldn’t do that anymore, maybe when he was younger, but not now his skin was wrinkling and his heart stopping.

Still, he never fails to ask the nurses to open his window in the care home every single morning, like clockwork, so he can stare out at the open sky. Maybe Minghao is somewhere out there looking up at the same sky as he is then and there. After searching for so long, the thought comforts him.

He's old and he's tired and he fails to notice the dazzling bird that rests on the window frame one afternoon, which watches him with eyes, oh so beautiful, hazel eyes as Mingyu takes in his last few breaths.

 

 

16.

 

When she's sure she's alone and nobody's watching, Mingyu allows herself to curse her fate and cry because she feels so miserable and so guilty and she knows she shouldn't feel like this but she can't help it, for who wouldn't feel horrible inside when the person they've loved for so many lifetimes ends up being their _twin brother_.

As she watches him asleep on the sofa, she plants a soft kiss right by his lips and she knows this is wrong, because this time Minghao's not her best friend or her boyfriend but her _brother,_ and she lets a tear run down her cheek before she wipes it and wakes him up.

"You're going to have a sore neck if you sleep here, idiot,” she tells him, and he rubs his eyes before getting up and walking to his bed. She follows him, because the thought of being apart kills her inside, in spite of their situation.

They're used to doing this, anyway, and she smiles warmly at him when he motions for her to get in bed with him and she rests her head on his chest. When she tells him she loves him she's not sure if he knows what she means, but she forgets about it when she feels his lips on her forehead.

They fall asleep in each other's arms, Mingyu feeling her heart break another night in a row.

 

 

17.

 

Mingyu watches the brown leaves fall off the trees as he waits for his train; this is the tenth autumn he's lived by himself in Seoul. He always gets nostalgic at this time of the year, because fall reminds him of Minghao the most. It gives him comfort, much like the other boy did. He only wishes he had him by his side.

Sighing, he boards the train, forcing those thoughts to the back of his mind as today is an important day and a big contract is going to be signed by his company, which would hopefully boost their annual profit and turnover. There was no time for other thoughts distracting him from the task at hand.

He doesn't notice the young man getting off of the train with his fluffy brunette hair and shining brown eyes gazing curiously at him. The train leaves on schedule without Mingyu looking back.

 

 

18.

 

He’ll never get used to the flashing cameras, even in this lifetime, he thinks as his agent hurries Mingyu along the red carpet. He’s already half an hour late for his own film premiere, he kept being reminded in the car, but he only nodded and watched as she got more and more worked up, traffic barely moving.

Red carpets are fun—he likes meeting his fans, even if it’s only briefly. Though, his hand often scolds him for signing hundreds of autographs when it cramps and burns following the event; he’s grateful selfie culture has become as big as it has, as are his fingers.

He thinks he might be nearing his hundredth autograph when he hears the voice, just faintly, above all the yells of fans and clicks of cameras documenting his and his co-stars every moves. Mingyu glances up from the paper he’s holding, pen almost signing his name itself it has become such a routine. He almost drops the biro.

“Thank you, I’m a huge fan.”

Mingyu gulps as he watches the boy take back the notebook he had signed, doe-eyes crinkled at the edges as a warm, satisfied smile paints his face.

Mingyu opens his mouth to reply, to say Minghao’s name, to say anything because he can’t believe of all the places that he’s _here_ … but as fate decides, he’s already being grabbed by his agent and pulled into the movie theatre to rapturous screams and glaring flashes.

The white light of the cameras blinds him, and he loses Minghao in the crowd.

 

 

19.

 

Mingyu thinks he can't get any luckier as he watches the sleeping form of his fiancé wrapped in his arms. He sighs contently as she opens her eyes and all Mingyu sees is the shade of brown he knows and loves so dearly.

"Good morning," he whispers lovingly, moving down to plant a soft sleepy kiss on her lips, and chuckles playfully when Minghao replies by flipping them over, kissing every part of Mingyu's body, feeling encouraged by his soft moans.

Nine months later, Mingyu decides he was quite wrong, and that he could indeed get luckier as he holds his and Minghao's child in his arms. When their child opens his eyes for the first time, he's left speechless for a split second before being reduced to a mess of tears and chuckles, earning a confused look from his wife.

"I think we should name him, Chan," he smiles, kind of breathless when his laughter subsides, and Minghao kisses his forehead as she admires her child's chubby cheeks and already thick, black hair with a smile on her face.

Life couldn’t get any better than this, he thinks.

 

 

20.

 

Mingyu would never have expected to find himself, in all the places to end up, as a servant to the royal family. Servant is a kinder word for slave, he thinks as he carries the prince's breakfast up to his quarters on his third day on the job. It's only a matter of time until they ask me to lay a path of rose petals for His Majesty to walk upon, Mingyu muses.

But, as he knocks thrice and enters upon the prince's dormitory, the sight that greets him takes him aback: a mess of bedhead, tanned skin, button nose and chocolate eyes, but it's definitely his Minghao. It almost trips him over, but he catches himself and places down the tray of food on the table.

Minghao mutters drowsily in Chinese that Mingyu thinks means thank you and something else, but he isn't entirely sure. When there's no reply and the sleepy prince shuffles off the bed to change, Mingyu worries that maybe he should have said something.

"You don't speak Chinese, huh?" Mingyu jerks up, his previous thoughts on the subject of language dissolving into thin air as the Prince calls out from his new position in the bathroom in a sweet accented Korean. "I was just saying, I should apologise for you seeing me in such a state after I woke up, but you seem just as tired as I am. If not more tired."

That voice. He's heard it so many times before but he will never get used to it, he thinks. Only this time he can't reply freely, biting back his conversational tongue. "Uh, yes, Your Highness."

"Don't bother with that 'your highness' stuff, it's too early and I'm not my father."

Daring as he is, he puts both his job and possibly his life at stake by continuing the conversation. "Don't like him very much?"

"Oh no, I love him, I just hate his title and his status and the way he thinks he's better than everyone else because he's royalty. So," the slender boy calls out from the bathroom, "I guess, I'm not too keen in the end. And he thinks I'm weak for caring too much about people, but isn't that what I'm supposed to do?"

"Evidently not." Mingyu smirks, realising the ease of conversation between them never left through each life. He leaves the food to make a start on changing the bedding, hoping his final additional comment wasn't a step in the wrong direction.

Prince Minghao re-emerges dressed in a button down silk shirt and tight trousers, Mingyu's back to him as he fluffs the pillows against the headboard and admires the crimson shade of the sheets.

"I like you. You're not like the other servants. You get on with making the bed without asking me which way they would like for it to be made."

Mingyu's brow creases in confusion, finishing up the job. "As far as I know, there's only one way to do it."

Turning to the Prince, he sees his face light up and a small chuckle escape his lips. "I've tried telling them that, but—" He stops mid-sentence as they come face to face and his eyes widen, reflecting the chandelier's light. Mingyu feels slightly self-conscious, being this close when he knows Minghao but Minghao doesn't know him.

"Prince Xu?" He starts, clearing his throat and shaking the prince out of his trance.

"Minghao. Call me, uh, call me Minghao." Silence. "This is typically the part where you tell me your name."

"It's Mingyu, your highness."

"Mingyu. I like that."

When he leaves after his chores, returning to the servant quarters after a round of cleaning, Mingyu gets taken aside by the housekeeper and expects to be scolded for his fraternising with the prince. Only it's quite the opposite, Mingyu gets told that he has been personally asked for by the prince to become his own personal servant.

Before they know it, Mingyu is sneaking into Minghao's quarters by his request when everyone believes them to be sleeping. They often talk about nothing in particular, but Mingyu loves learning everything about him all over again. He knows it's stupid, the circumstances aren't great but oh god, he's here and Minghao is with him and things are just fine by him.

They fall in love helplessly.

It's the kind of love that keeps his fingertips tingling even after they have accidentally brushed hands when fleeing from the kitchens with stolen food. The kind of love that makes Mingyu blush as they make eye contact across the great hall, Minghao smiling into his chalice. The kind of love that he has felt through lifetimes and is sure is never going to stop.

He swallows it. Nothing is ever said until Mingyu thinks, one night, _this is it_. He's going to tell Minghao everything. Nothing will stop him, not this time.

"Father is sending me into battle." Except for that.

"What?"

"You heard me. I set off with the knights tomorrow at dawn."

"No."

"Yes."

"He can't make you go. You're the heir."

"Yes he can, and as his heir it's my duty."

"I'll talk to him myself. I'll request an audience with him and try and convince him—"

"Mingyu," Minghao says his name filled with malice, only to be replaced with sorrowful eyes, "he'll have you killed. I won't let that happen and it won't work."

Mingyu doesn't know why he doesn't just tell him there. Tell Minghao about how he has loved him, adored him throughout so many lives and that this one has been no different. But there's silence, unspoken words floating between them, and they know.

Minghao leaves for battle the next morning; Mingyu makes sure he's up at sunrise to see the silhouettes of men on their horses disappear into the distance.

The prince doesn't come back.

 

 

21.

 

If he had to choose, Mingyu would say the times when he and Minghao grew up together were his favourites. Each time was quite different than the other, but it always gave him a sense of peace and happiness.

This time, however, Mingyu couldn't quite live in peace, as there were times when Minghao would mention how he felt a strange sense of déjà vu more often than not, and it would make Mingyu nervous and worried and scared because, what if he remembered all the other times they met? What would happen between them, then? How would Minghao react to it? Did Minghao remember where it all began?

He tried to convince him that there was nothing he should worry about, and thankfully the brunette believed him every single time.

He doesn't need to know. Not this time.

 

 

22.

 

Mingyu is walking towards her usual spot in the park, book in hand, looking forward to the routine she's set and kept for the past month: pretending to read as she peered over the top of her book, watching as Minghao sculpted art, his talented hands working on the canvas, creating beautiful paintings that made Mingyu's chest burn with pride and admiration. In a previous life I used to be the “artistic” one, she smirks.

She's been trying to approach him, but for some reason she's been having trouble in doing so—he's no less friendly and easy to keep a conversation with than what he was when he was Minghao, she just somehow finds it trickier, yet that doesn't stop her drive. At least, not until she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and sets her eyes on his latest painting.

What she sees on the canvas sends shivers down her spine and makes her breath catch in her throat. She feels as if she's looking at a mirror, or at least she would if she was still Mingyu, the first Mingyu, and she doesn't know what to do, doesn't know if Minghao has finally remembered.

So she runs, runs as fast as her long legs will allow her, all the way out of the park until she’s at least half a town's width away. She cries and tries to stop her shaking hands but it's no use.

She never sets foot in that park again.

 

 

23.

 

"Do you believe in reincarnation?" Minghao asks, his accent filling Mingyu's ears and his eyes widen.

He gulps, but regains his composure in a split second and rubs the back of his neck before replying, "I can't say I do, but I can't say I don't either."

"I've been having weird dreams for a while. I can't remember exactly what they're about, I can only remember this place, and there's a figure or few... there are lights everywhere in front of me and voices and I always wake up shaken and crying." Minghao screws his eyes shut, and at this, Mingyu panics, clenching his teeth, "Do you think they're memories of how I died?"

Doing his best to keep a cool façade, Mingyu hopes his reply is worthy of his title as a psychologist when he explains that dreams are repressed desires that the body releases in either attacks of anxiety or, in his patient’s case, nightmares. Minghao gives him a confused look before asking, "Are you telling me I'm subconsciously wishing for something I think I'm terrified of? There are so many lights and so many people, doctor."

"W—well, it could mean many things... best not to focus on the negative!" is what Mingyu says before telling him _time is up,_  and _see you next time_.

He all but pushes the boy out of his office before he breaks down into a fit of sobs at the thought of Minghao describing them on stage as a nightmare.

 

 

24.

 

These past seventeen years, Mingyu thought he was quite lucky to be living in a city where he's with Minghao and all the people he befriended throughout his many lives. He felt like this was another chance to make things right and say the things he failed to say when he was known as Mingyu, and he kind of wished Minghao would remember the good times they spent together so many lifetimes ago on stage, before all of it turned into this never ending loop.

Today, the teenager woke up with a strange feeling in his chest, and he knew something was amiss as soon as stepped into his school and his best friend was nowhere to be found. Perhaps he's sick, he thought, but quickly corrected himself when he realised that Minghao always told him when he was sick, and it was quite obvious because he got a fever a lot.

As he anxiously waited for the bell signalling lunchtime to ring, a million different scenarios ran through his head, and he had to keep reminding himself that Minghao had nowhere else to be other than the school. He asked Jeonghan and Wonwoo if either of them had seen the brunette, but both shook their heads.

As soon as the bell rang, his feet took him instinctively out of the classroom towards the field, and he couldn't say he was surprised to find Minghao sitting on the grass. But he was relieved. Gulping nervously, Mingyu approached him and sat silently by the side of his best friend. After a moment of silence, a voice that sent shivers down Mingyu's spine spoke.

 "It was hard, wasn't it?"

"Yeah," was the single word that left the taller boy's mouth, and his heart shook with fear and anticipation.

"But even so you kept chasing after me. Time and time again." The brunette head turned his way, and Mingyu could see dried tears on Minghao's cheeks and his eyes were red and puffy and—how long had he been crying? "Even when I didn't even acknowledge your existence. Even when I didn't remember you, when I left you, when I didn't notice you, you were always there."

"I was." Mingyu replied, and lifted a hand to cup Minghao's cheek, wiping a stray tear with his thumb, "I couldn't leave you alone. Not again. I couldn't bring myself to be away from you."

Mingyu understood that all the fear he had harboured of this very moment was irrational the moment Minghao lifted his hand to place it on the brunette's. Closing his eyes and leaning into his touch, Mingyu - on impulse - closed the gap between them and kissed Minghao's eyelids, kissed his cheeks, his forehead, the tip of his nose, caught Minghao's tears with his lips, and whispered over and over again, I love you, I love you, I love you, Minghao, _I love you._

Minghao's reply came after he pressed their lips together in a ephemeral kiss, the sweetest they'd shared in any life, Mingyu thought, and he let his own tears fall when Minghao's voice reached him, "I love you too... Mingyu."

He could only hope this wasn't their last lifetime together.

**Author's Note:**

> i am terrified to repost this and idk why but i hope you enjoyed.
> 
> ♡ [@magzineho](http://twitter.com/magzineho)


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